


The Indiscretion of the Hon. John Fairfield

by dafna



Category: Dorothy L Sayers - Lord Peter Wimsey series
Genre: M/M, Yuletide, challenge:Yuletide 2007, recipient:marginaliana
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-01-24
Updated: 2007-01-24
Packaged: 2017-10-14 07:59:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/147096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dafna/pseuds/dafna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"If ever there was a fellow so stupid as to not only bugger his valet but to actually fall in love with him, it'd be Fairfield."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Indiscretion of the Hon. John Fairfield

**Author's Note:**

> This was a unbeta'd last-minute Yuletide Madness piece, so I apologize for any and all typos. I was also inspired by the crack_van comment on the paucity of this pairing, which while I can't really see myself, thought I'd try to least get close to. Warning for those who've read my other Wimsey fics -- this is not a gen mystery. Heed the rating.

"Just up and scarpered, right before his sister's debut, as well." Freddy Arbuthnot was perhaps taking too much joy in imparting this news. "Are there any more muffins?"

Detective-Inspector Charles Parker glared across at him, sitting upright on a Regency chair and looking the picture of the disapproving middle class. Lord Peter Wimsey decided it was the better part of etcetera to intervene.

"Freddy," he admonished, "Do try to take this a bit more seriously. Charles has come round expressly because I asked him to, so be a good chap and push on with it. Bunter will do his best Lane impression in a minute."

"Indeed, sir," said Charles, his tone removing most of the deference of the address, "So far you have not told me anything we did not already know. We were informed of the kidnapping by Lady Susan herself earlier today."

"Kidnapping!" Freddy sat up, flinging his arms wildly. Peter winced as muffin crumbs scattered across the Aubusson rug. He glanced across the room and saw Bunter wince similarly, then move backwards out of the room, taking the fresh plate of muffins with him. Serves Freddy right, Peter thought.

"Oh dear me, is that what the family is calling it?" Freddy was in more earnest now. "I knew I did the right thing in calling on Wimsey. You must have loads more serious matters to investigate."

"The disappearance of the Honorable John Fairfield, and the suspicious behavior of his now also-disappeared valet, Patrick Enright, in the days before, is in fact ..."

Freddy cut Charles off. "But that's just the point, my man. It's only suspicious if you refuse to believe the facts."

Charles shook his pen and prepared to take down notes. "Good, so at last we come to it. And these facts are?"

Freddy took the silver tongs Bunter was proferring and dropped two sugar lumps into his tea. "They ran off together, don't you see?"

Charles dropped his pen. Peter glanced across at Bunter, but he had already missed whatever reaction had crossed his face, and Bunter was now assaying the part of a very tall piece of furniture.

"I'm sure you don't mean ..." Charles had picked up his pen but was far from being composed enough to actually use it.

"I do mean," said Freddy, seizing the opportunity to steal Charles's muffin. "Fairfield's an invert -- not as notorious as some, I'll grant you, but not exactly discreet either. And he was always a bit of a romantic, even at school. He mooned all over Wimsey here for years."

Peter felt his face grow hot. "Now see here, old chap," he began.

"Oh, nothing meant by it, I'm sure," Freddy said. "Just, if ever there was a fellow so stupid as to not only bugger his valet but to actually fall in love with him, it'd be Fairfield."

Charles had regained his composure. "I'm not sure his reputation at school is quite enough to justify this remarkable conclusion."

"Oh," said Freddy, "I've forgotten the main point, haven't I? He left a note."

"A note?" cried Peter and Charles in unison.

"Haven't got it, of course," Freddy said, waving his hand apologetically. "His sister destroyed it. Figured she'd wait a few months before breaking the news to her mother. But when the police became involved, she figured she'd better toddle round to old Freddy and see if I could sort things.

"Everyone will know soon enough, I suppose," Freddy continued. "Going to make a lot of mothers take a second look at their bachelor sons' arrangements, I tell you." He sipped his tea. "A good thing old Rogers is 104, I think, but others ..."

Freddy's voice trailed off but Peter returned his gaze with calm composure. Charles finished whatever he was writing and looked up at Freddy. "Right sir, if you wouldn't mind answering a few more points?"

Peter let his attention drift and noticed that Bunter had been standing behind him, possibly for some time, holding a fresh cup of tea.

"Thank you, Bunter," Peter said, taking the cup and ignoring, as he always did, the frisson that ran up his spine as their hands briefly touched. He risked a glance upwards, but Bunter had already moved across the room and was clearing the plates. He bent over to reach a glass that had rolled under a table and Peter closed his eyes.

That was a mistake, as his libido immediately took the occasion of supplying a series of images to his clearly fevered brain: Bunter, on his knees, his mouth worshipping Peter as they stood in the hall at Denver; Bunter, bent over the very couch Freddy was sitting on; Peter, waking up in the morning to a warm hand beneath the covers; and finally, the two of them falling upon each other as they returned from a case, rolling around on the floor, desperate.

Enough, he told himself sharply. Peter forced himself to open his eyes and found himself staring at Bunter, who quickly looked away. Ashamed of his thoughts, Peter turned his attention back to the conversation.

"You make it sound like all of Mayfair is ..." Charles turned to Peter in appeal. "Peter?"

"Oh, of course not," Peter said, pulling his jacket down as he sat up in his chair. "I mean, I suppose it happens just as some men are known to take advantage of their maidservants, but I personally can't think of anything more dishonorable."

Was that a clink he heard as Bunter set down a tray? He looked up and this time, Bunter kept his gaze.

"Even if such a thing were natural, which it's not," Peter continued, "how could a man live with himself, to betray such a trust?"

"Oh honestly, Peter," said Freddy, "Sometimes you're as big a romantic as Fairfield." Peter turned to look at Freddy, and when he looked back, Bunter had retired to the kitchen. "In most of these cases, it's no more than a passing diversion -- on either side."

Charles looked as if he would have preferred to have gone a long time without this insight into the Piccadilly male. He cleared his throat and stood up.

"I have to thank you, Mr. Arbuthnot, for taking the time to tell me this. We will investigate further, of course, but as you say, we do have other matters that require our attention."

"Oh, think nothing of it," Freddy said, also rising to leave. "Would you like a lift?"

Bunter reappeared with their coats, and the two men left in a bustle of hats and scarves.

Peter and Bunter were left standing in the hall, carefully not looking at each other.

"Sad case," Peter said, finally, turning his head slightly.

"As you say, sir," Bunter said, returning his gaze. "Most sad."

Peter started to speak, then stopped himself. "Actually, Bunter, I think I shall go out as well. Take a nice brisk walk."

"Very good, sir." Bunter held out his coat, as he had done innumerable times. And if Peter took just a bit longer to envelop himself in it, neither man thought fit to mention it.

"Bunter," Peter said, his foot on the doorstep. He looked back at his valet.

"Yes, sir?" Bunter looked blank, the perfect servant.

"I trust you with my life, you know that, right?"

Something crossed Bunter's face, but Peter was not expert enough to name it.

"Thank you, sir."

Peter nodded, and went out the door into the cold winter day.

**Author's Note:**

> Original comments left on this story can be found [here](http://www.yuletidetreasure.org/archive/56/theindiscretion_cmt.html).


End file.
